


Lightning in a Bottle

by delighted



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode: s10e09 Ka la'au kumu 'ole o Kahilikolo, Idiots in Love, Introspective Steve, M/M, Mild Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-15
Updated: 2019-12-15
Packaged: 2021-02-18 03:57:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21771382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/delighted/pseuds/delighted
Summary: It’s not like he hasn’t come close over the past ten years. It’s not like there haven’t been times Steve’s very nearly taken that step with Danny, been ready to jump off that ledge. But timing has never been Steve’s friend, and every time he’s been ready to admit his feelings for Danny, every single time, Danny’s ended up in someone else’s arms.
Relationships: Steve McGarrett/Danny "Danno" Williams
Comments: 11
Kudos: 239





	Lightning in a Bottle

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AlgeriaTouchshriek](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlgeriaTouchshriek/gifts).



> Once again, no way could I resist that episode set up. It’s almost as though season ten is trying to elicit fic... and of course, I’m delighted to do my part. 
> 
> This one’s for Algeria, for so many reasons, but mostly because it would not be what it is if not for the words with which he filled my ears while I was writing....
> 
> Title from “Electric Love” by Børns, which has basically the opposite energy of the story, but I couldn’t get it out of my head. 
> 
> **Content notes:** There are some good doses of self-loathing on Steve’s part, a brief description of some panic/anxiety, and a slight dark tone to the sex scenes. I’ve put more about that last bit in end notes in case you want more (slightly spoilery) info first to make sure you’re okay with it.

He’d gone along with it at first. Which isn’t to say he enjoyed it. In fact it hurt like those tiny shards of glass that are microscopic compared to the ones that cut deep, so you feel like you ought to be able to ignore them but you just can’t, so you let them hurt and maybe it’s okay, maybe you deserve it because the truth is the mess is your fault in the first place.

(Yeah he didn’t say any of this was emotionally healthy or mature.)

The point is. He hadn’t enjoyed it. But he’d been willing to sacrifice his own enjoyment for Danny’s happiness.

And that right there is probably the heart of the problem in a nutshell.

It’s not that he didn’t want Danny back with Rachel. There was part of him that was willing to be open to the possibility that they could actually finally be happy. And for Charlie’s sake, of course Steve wanted that.

And if it meant him dating the women Danny kept throwing at him, well, okay if that’s what it took.

Thing is.

It wasn’t _them_ he wanted to be spending his time with.

And it wasn’t like he didn’t know, with the painful clarity of one who’s finally seen the light only once it’s far too late, just exactly who he wanted to be spending his time with.

And in this really horrible way, his misadventure in Mexico, his mother’s stupid stupid sacrifice, and this pit of gloom he’s sunk into since, well it’s given him an excuse. He’d been relieved to know that Danny wouldn’t push women on him for at least some amount of time. So fucking relieved.

But then Danny’d gone that one step further.

And Lou is right, Danny’ll see through him, through his non-belief in the mold excuse. But the truth is Steve wants him here. He’d been nearly overwhelmed by... relief? Hope? Possibility? When he’d seen what Danny was doing and why. Why he’d picked Thanksgiving weekend of all times to come stay with him. And if Danny uses the excuse that they’ve just shared a bed in DC for nearly a week as his reasoning for climbing in Steve’s much smaller queen size bed rather than kicking Eddie off the sofa, well it’s not like Steve will complain.

Actually he _will_ complain, because Danny expects it (Steve kind of gets the sense Danny likes it when Steve complains, but that's kind of a can of worms right there isn’t it). But then he’ll accept Danny’s presence in his bed in a begrudging way that’ll make it seem like he’s humoring Danny and doing him a somewhat reluctant favor, rather than realizing with shocking clarity that it’s what he’s wanted all along.

So that’s been a fun emotional backdrop to the holiday and to his continued deep and clinging grief over his mother’s hurtful stupidity and selfishness.

(That’s also a whole other can of worms. He’s starting to think he needs to take up fishing.)

Of course having Danny around to help clean up after the fabulous dinner is nice too. Sometimes Steve regrets their decision to not go ahead with the restaurant, because there’s something undeniably hot about Danny bossing him around in the kitchen.

And if having Danny there to help makes Junior feel okay about taking off to (finally!) spend some time with Tani, well that warms Steve’s rusty but romantic heart. They’re bigger idiots than he thinks if they don’t end up finally admitting their feelings for each other after the emotions of the day. Steve saw Junior’s face, after all, when his mom hugged Tani in thanks for the return of her precious collection of necklaces. There’s no way that wasn’t the relief-tinged expression of delight of a man upon seeing his mother so easily accept the woman he loves. 

And as for Tani. Well. They’ve talked about this, Steve and her. Repeatedly. It’s why he’d sent her with Junior when he got the call about the break in. Not just because he’d wanted someone with Junior, but because he’d seen in her eyes she wouldn’t have her head in the game otherwise.

But the thing is. It also means. Well it means maybe he and Danny will get some time alone, okay? And it’s not like they hadn’t had time together in DC, but Steve had been a mess and Danny’d mostly let him be except for feeding him and making sure he swam every day. And it’s not like Steve’s not still deep in the well of grief. But he’s felt it. This need for time alone with Danny. This longing for the times they used to have. Just the two of them, beers and pizza and a game on TV that they mostly ignore while they... well frankly _cuddle_ on the sofa. Steve needs that so bad he can taste it. And okay. He’s hoping this awkward, forced, faked excuse Danny’s concocted so he can stay at Steve’s over the long weekend... well he’s hoping it gets him some of that good old fashioned Danny time.

He’s not disappointed.

Danny cleans up with near-military order, sends everyone home with perfect packages of leftovers, and it’s almost like he’s got Adam in on it with him, because the crowd disperses rather more quickly than Steve might have imagined.

Once they’re alone, it’s immediate, Danny’s shedding of this awkward tension Steve’s felt in him all day. And he’d worried it was in part at least due to Rachel’s choice to take the kids away for the holiday, and Danny’s choice not to go with them. (That’s probably another can of worms, though, isn’t it.)

But as soon as they’re alone, Danny opens fresh beers for them both, settles easily on the sofa (Eddie having crashed under the dining room table after way more than his usual dose of attention and belly rubs), and pulls up the day’s football games on replay.

And there’s no pizza, but there is cuddling. And maybe it’s partly Danny’s whole thing of being overly-protective of Steve and worrying about his grief, but Steve’ll take it any way he can get it, thanks. And be very grateful indeed.

Danny’s relaxed mood slides a little further towards something softer Steve’s not seen in him in a while, and his heart skips several beats when Danny turns sideways and pulls his legs up on the sofa, resting his head in Steve’s lap, practically nuzzling against him as if he were Eddie seeking a good scratching behind the ears. And probably Steve should leave well enough alone, but he’s a fool, so he puts his fingers lightly against Danny’s head, and rubs playfully just against the shaved bit at the side... just about where he would scratch Eddie.

And no, it’s not odd that he’s feeling a bit like Danny’s not actually all that far off from being his pet. He’s just somehow magically there when he needs him, sensing his loneliness, sensing his sadness, sensing his need for company—not pushing, not lecturing him, not bossing him around, just being there, this solid, supportive, comforting presence.... 

And dammit it’s those thoughts that do it, and he swears he doesn’t mean to, but he starts to cry. And he doesn’t know if it’s because of Danny, because of how wonderful this man with his head in Steve’s lap is, or if it’s just the lingering emotions of the day, of the case, or if it’s because of the holiday, and all the friends who filled his home with aloha... or because of the mother who never again will. But soon he’s pretty much sobbing, and Danny tries to sit up, but Steve—and maybe it makes no sense, but he needs Danny’s head in his lap, needs that warmth at his side, so he moves his hand from Danny’s head to his shoulder and holds him still, and thank god he gets it. 

He gets it perfectly. And he curls up more so his body is closer to Steve as if that would matter but it kind of does, and his hand comes up awkwardly to reach for Steve’s hand and he takes it, god he takes it like a drowning man reaching for a lifeline, and maybe it’s because Danny’s here that he gives in so fully to the tears, or maybe he just knew. Maybe Danny just knew, like a dog would know. Like a parent would know. Like a _lover_ would know. 

Well, shit.

It stutters his tears to a halt, too abruptly. He hiccups, sniffles, sighs, and then laughs. 

“Oh, god, Danny.” 

And he uses the pretext of wiping his tears to let go Danny’s hand, and it’s clear Danny can’t decide if he should sit up now, or stay there, so Steve shifts, and Danny gets it, and he’s sitting, and turned sideways, close to Steve but not reaching out, as though he’s uncertain, uncertain of his place, and that’s probably, in hindsight, that’s probably what does it, because Steve suddenly is _very_ certain of Danny’s place, and just as certain that Danny won’t ever claim it. Unless Steve does. 

So he kisses him. 

And it’s wet in the wrong ways because Steve’s still got tears running down his cheeks, and he’s sniffling to boot, but Danny doesn’t seem to mind. He doesn’t seem to mind at all, in fact he takes the kiss over, and that too is like he knows it’s what Steve needs, and it’s stupidly like Steve’s given Danny the keys after too a long case and he feels that _release_ as he gives control over, lets go, and just gives in completely to the incessant pull of Danny’s kisses. 

God. He’s imagined, of course. He’s imagined loads of times, what kissing Danny would be like. What it would feel like to have those expressive lips against his, those heated breaths against his skin, those strong, capable hands rubbing into his scalp, digging into his flesh, and he can’t decide if they’re claiming or comforting or something more, but it feels amazing, and unfortunately that pushes him over into _why haven’t we done this before_ , and it stops him breathing. 

As soon as that happens, that pause, that break, it allows reality back in. And with it, the one bright flashing neon thing that’s been holding Steve back from seeking the comfort he’s so badly wanted from Danny for the past month. 

“What about Rachel, buddy?”

Danny lets out a growl, like he's infuriated at the interruption of the kissing, enraged Steve’s brought this up. “What about her?”

“You finally given up?”

Danny falls back, away from Steve like he’s been punched. He sighs. He shrugs. It’s resentful, it seems to Steve. But he thinks Danny’s got that emotion wrong. Very wrong. Because Steve’s wondered about this before, obviously. But now he’s pretty sure he’s right.

“She’s not here, is she?” Danny’s anger rings clear in his tone. “ _She chose_. They didn’t have to go, she chose that, to not be with me. To take my kids away. Knowing what Thanksgiving means. Knowing what it always means... but especially this year.” He ends on another shrug.

“I dunno, Danny,” Steve says, aware he’s playing with fire but doing it anyway. “Seems to me you coulda gone with them....”

Danny scoffs so harshly it makes Steve flinch. “And leave you alone on Thanksgiving?”

And he thinks that as soon as Danny’s said it, he realizes. Hears what he’s finally admitted. So Steve softens. And he knows he’s giving Danny this look like he’s only saying what’s so, so obvious. Which, it is. 

“Okay, buddy,” he starts. Slowly. Gently. Aware that Danny’s fallen into this maybe a bit blind, thinking he’d been doing it for Steve. Not yet seeing—like Steve sees it, so clearly now. 

“First of all,” Steve points out. “I wasn’t alone.” He lets that sink in for a bit. After all, Junior’d been the one to get the door. “Second of all.” And he brings a hand to Danny’s face, the need to touch impossible to resist at the thought. At the memory. “That’s not the first time you’ve chosen me over her. I think she’s gonna notice.”

And he’s not sure if he thinks Danny will protest, but he thinks he won’t be surprised if he does. Which means he _is_ surprised when Danny _laughs_. He laughs and it’s not bitter, it’s not resentful, it’s actually a lot closer to giddy, with a raw edge of mania to it, like it’s releasing something. Because maybe it is. And it turns breathless and that turns to needy gasps. And it’s gratifyingly like Danny’s already addicted to kissing him because it takes a good solid few minutes of kissing before Danny can breathe again, and Steve’s pretty sure that’s not how this is supposed to go. But isn’t it just perfectly Danny to be opposite in that, as in so many things.

When Steve recovers his own breathing after (because maybe Danny stole his breath, maybe that’s how this works), he sees another truth that had been slightly cloudy before. “You fully planned on sharing my bed tonight, didn’t you,” he asks. And he doesn’t think he’s pointing anything dramatic out or anything, but Danny looks caught out. And Steve gets it. In a flash he gets what happened. And he blurts out “Is that when you realized?” And almost regrets saying the words, as though they might make Danny vanish, but suddenly he needs to know. “In DC?”

Danny’s face fades smoothly from shock to awareness to something approaching amusement. 

“Naw, babe. I think I realized about half way over the Pacific on the way _to_ DC.”

And Steve feels, almost viscerally. What that must have been like for Danny. Never the easy flyer, never the easy admitter of feelings. God. No wonder he hadn’t slept on the flight. 

Steve starts to laugh. And he’s still sort of been crying, and he knows there are more tears he needs to shed over this, over her. But that only makes this _more_ clear. The contrast. The context. Because Danny chose Steve over Rachel, again. 

Because Danny _chose Steve_. 

And the fact remains. Whatever else the past ten years have been. No one else has ever put Steve first. It’s only ever been Danny that’s done that. 

And shit maybe sometimes it does, maybe sometimes it takes that kind of sharp contrast. Maybe sometimes we really are blind idiots who can’t see what’s right in front of us, can’t see what we _do_ have, only what we _don’t_. Spend too much of life focusing on loss and hurts and what could have been, and start taking for granted what _is_ because all we can see is what _isn’t_.

He knows he’d done that with Doris. And it nearly got them both killed.

He’s done it with Danny, and maybe it’s not almost got them killed, but it has messed them up over the years, he knows it has. 

Steve’s kept Danny away when he needed him most, because he hadn’t been able to deal with the hurt of Danny not being his and his alone, on top of his other hurts. He’s treated Danny horribly because he couldn’t believe Danny really could care about him, not that much, not that way. 

Not the way Steve wanted. The way he needed. 

And yeah, again, it’s not the healthiest way to be. He really does know it. He just hasn’t known how to be any different. 

But he knows he’s not going to keep doing this with Danny. He can’t. Not now. 

“I know there’s no mold, buddy,” he says softly, solidly. Ready to hold on if it makes Danny bolt. And Steve almost thinks it starts to. 

But then Danny crumples at the shove. Literally deflates. “I didn’t want to give you the option of pushing me away,” he finally admits. And he’s not meeting Steve’s eyes, and that right there is painfully telling. Because of course it is what Steve does, pushes away the love that's been offered because he still hurts too much over the love that never was. 

(Yes. He knows. It’s ironic.)

He hopes he can manage to admit it.

“Hey,” he says, to the top of Danny’s head. “God I’m sorry. I....” 

Shit. He knows the words he wants to say. Wishes they were already out. Why is admitting something out loud so much harder than it should be? He really wishes it wasn’t this hard. It makes him feel broken. Incapable. Unworthy. Which just makes it worse and frankly has probably been nine tenths of the problem all along.

But Danny finally looks up. And he looks so expectant. And it reminds Steve of when Eddie looks at him at the end of a long day, trying to figure out if he’s going to get an actual walk or if he’ll just be let out in the yard. And some of those times, Steve can’t manage to pull himself together to take Eddie for the walk he deserves. But when he does, when he pushes past the pain or the tiredness and does it, it’s always so worth it. Because it makes Eddie so damn happy.

This, he figures, ultimately isn’t all that different. 

“I know that’s what I do. Push you away. And I know it makes me a jerk and an idiot and not someone you should want to be with. But I do know it’s what I do. And I am so sorry that I keep doing that to you. I really don’t know why you keep trying. Why you still care. After all this time. Why you’d still want to try....” 

And maybe they’re the same tears, from the same source, or maybe the tears over Doris helped reach back and open up the other, long suppressed tears he’s never shed. 

Because it’s not like he hasn’t come close to this over the past ten years. It’s not like there haven’t been times he’s very nearly taken this step with Danny. Been ready to jump off that ledge. 

But shit, timing has never been his friend. And every time he’s been ready to admit it. Every. Single. Time. Danny’s ended up in someone else’s arms. Steve won’t count the times, but they’re etched on his soul. 

What he should have realized is... they’re etched on Danny’s too.

“It’s not like we don’t share that blame, babe,” Danny sighs heavily as he says it, closes his eyes, and Steve’s surprised to see two tears drop down his cheeks. And he wants, oh he wants to wipe them away... and then he realizes he can. 

Realizes he _should_. 

So he does. 

And there’s something about that tender gesture. It shifts something for him. It’s nearly impossible to describe, but somehow, that one tiny gesture starts to sweep away years of conditioning. Years of holding back, suppressing, trying to pretend this isn’t what it is, trying to imagine it’s not what he wants it to be. And when Danny shivers and then opens his eyes, Steve knows, Danny felt it too. 

“The times I could have gone to you,” Danny whispers. “Times I _wanted_ to go to you.” Another shudder passes through him. “But went to her instead.” 

And of course there’s no need to say who _she_ is. 

He presses into Steve’s hand, still on his cheek. “But when I need you... you’re here. When I really need you, you’re always there. It’s just when I have to choose....”

Steve needs to stop that line of thinking, he feels it in his bones. And he doesn’t have to move far, to kiss Danny into silence. 

“Shhh,” he breathes into Danny’s mouth, then kisses his shushing away. “I know. And I wish I could have gone to you. Or asked. Said I needed you. But you always know when I need you.” He swallows. “And I think maybe that’s kept me from feeling I could ask.”

It’s a heavy realization. A gloomy confession. But it’s their reality. Maybe if they’d met at a different point in their lives. Before things had gotten complicated. But that’s a fruitless wish. A futile hope. Steve’s always wanted things simpler than they are. Clearer than they are. And it’s kept him in a paralyzing holding pattern. It’s not like he hasn’t realized it. 

Add to that Danny’s own propensity to imagine the worst, expect the negative outcome. And, now he’s admitting, shy away from what he truly wants for something that’s safer because he already knows it’s doomed to fail. 

It feels like a sinkhole they can’t escape. 

So maybe they don’t try.

“We’ve really fucked this up, haven’t we?” 

Steve’s not sure if Danny means it as a rhetorical question, or if he’s just needing Steve to reassure him, but the thing is, yeah, they have. On several levels and for so many years. So he admits it.

“We sure have, buddy. But at least it gives us a real low bar for what we do next. I mean, we should be able to at least not make it worse. Right? The bar is so low now, we can’t miss.”

It helps. Helps a lot, that Danny’s looking at him like he’s the softest sweetest thing on the planet. _God that helps so much_. And, god help him, but now he’s figured out at last that kissing Danny seems to make everything easier, he kinda doesn’t want to stop, so they kiss for a bit.

“At least we’re good at that,” Danny says on a heated breath as they pull only slightly apart after a really nice round of kisses. And it’s not just Steve’s imagination, either, that Danny’s thinking about other things they might be good at and not have known. 

Because, _his tone_.... And Steve’s always suspected Danny’s just a tiny bit of a slut. _The way he walks sometimes_. It’s just impossible not to think it. And, considering the way Danny’s looking at him now. Touching him now. He knows if he let it, he’d find out for sure.

But. And maybe it’s his self-suffering tendencies, maybe he still doesn’t think he deserves it. Or maybe he just wants to experience this part, the kissing and touching part, for a little while longer first. 

So he moves just enough back, and Danny blinks, and the spell is a little bit—not _broken_ , because Steve’s fairly sure if he leaned back in it would re-engage—but the spark is muted just enough that ignition is stalled.

But probably not for long, because the way Danny’s looking at him, blinking, seeming as though he’s a little bit lost now without Steve’s lips on his, well dammit, that’s not exactly quelling Steve’s desire to find out, now is it? 

It feels more than a little like now they’ve let this thing between them _out_ of the bottle, they can’t possibly put it back, but also more than a little like they simply have no control over it. And maybe they shouldn’t want to. 

He doesn’t realize he’s still got tears on his cheeks until Danny’s reaching for them, and mostly it just smears them around, but fuck, Steve doesn’t care. Danny’s touching him. That’s all he feels. And it’s his fault, really, when he gurgles a poorly suppressed moan from deep in his chest, deep beneath the tears and the hurt and the grief and the resentment, and maybe that’s part of the secret there. Maybe they don’t get out of the pit, away from the stupid stupid mistake of not admitting this sooner. Maybe they just sit here in it and let it burn itself out, and the sorrow and pain and longing along with it.

Danny stands. And he holds out his hand. And Steve takes it, and Danny leads him, so slowly, across the living room, to the stairs, up the stairs to his room, and Danny shuts the door, because who knows if Junior will know to stay away—Steve would guess so, but he isn’t sure. Tani will know, he thinks. 

But once Danny’s got the door shut, something in him changes. Some new electricity starts to spark, some alternate current starts to flow. And Steve’s suspected. It’s not just a hot head and a fiery temper Danny’s got on him, but a heat that burns deeper, an energy that now floods nearly perceptibly out of him, filling the room, warming Steve, making the whole damn room glow. 

Steve’s always been pulled towards Danny, almost like he couldn’t help it. He thinks he’s always known this is how it would be. The ten years he waited haven’t dulled it in the least. And maybe that should surprise him, but it just doesn’t. 

It’s nearly like Danny knows Steve’s head is still too much in the game, because he shoves him back, kind of hard, till the backs of his knees collide with the edge of the bed, and he starts to sit, but Danny grabs his arms fiercely, holding him upright. And he undoes Steve’s pants, shoves them down, then does his own. He steps out of them, taking his shirt off at the same time, and Steve mirrors him. With only their briefs still on—boring grey on Steve’s part, but then he wasn’t exactly expecting this, and purple and navy polka dotted boxer briefs on Danny’s, and maybe he was?—they fall finally onto the bed, Steve feeling the air leave his lungs in a whoof as Danny bounces on him, pressing hard against him as though to hold him still, punishing, almost, as if he wants to say _it’s your fault it’s taken us this long, I blame you_. 

And the thing is, Steve wouldn’t protest if Danny did. He’d probably agree, and worse. 

Danny seems to burn out some of that frustration in a series of biting kisses along Steve’s collarbone that leave him a shivering mess of anticipation so he thinks he’s prepared for it when Danny’s hand reaches between them to slide inside those dull grey briefs. He’s not though. He’s so not. He’s not sure he ever could have been prepared for what it feels like to have that hand touch him, claim him, and he didn’t know he had such a thing for Danny’s hands, but he feels like an idiot for not knowing that till now because holly fuck. 

And yeah okay there’s some anger still there, and maybe angry sex isn’t the best most healthy first time sex, but Steve’s probably not going to complain. Especially not when Danny sits back, straddling Steve now and pulls himself out, watching Steve intently, reaching out for Steve’s hand, and placing it on his dick like he just doesn’t have the patience to wait for Steve to figure out what the fuck to do with himself. 

He gives in to thrusting up through Steve’s greedy fist, but then he’s back down and grabbing for Steve, their hands a frantic, needy tangle of desperation and heady euphoria that makes Steve feel like he’s floating or possibly about to pass out. He feels the tension within Danny mount, and he knows it won’t always be like this but he still wouldn’t complain if it were because right before Danny comes he bites Steve, _hard_ , and it’s angry and it’s electric and it’s probably pretty much what it needed to be and probably it says something that even though Danny stops his motions on Steve’s dick with his own orgasm, it’s the heat spilling from Danny that takes Steve over the edge. 

The heat and the pain, too. 

Which fits, really. Because it’s always hurt, how much he’s wanted Danny. So that the having him should hurt as well only seems right. 

And it feels amazing. 

Danny falls off him, over to the side, and he’s mostly escaped the mess and Steve kind of thinks it would go with how Danny’s been if he got up to shower and left Steve in bed a sticky mess, but he doesn’t. And that does something to Steve’s heart... because he’d be okay with that, he would. He thinks he’d be okay if Danny punished him a little bit every day for the next ten years, and maybe even it would help. 

But Danny goes to the bathroom and he uses some mouthwash, and he brings Steve back a wet washcloth and a dry hand towel as well, and he sits next to Steve, and he spends way more time than is necessary, cleaning their messes off him. And honestly it feels a little bit like it helps. 

It helps even more when Danny takes the towels to the bathroom after, and comes back to bed, not bothering to put any clothes on, and settles himself as though it’s where he’s always slept, tightly against Steve’s side. Pulling the blanket around them with a sigh of contentment, it seems to Steve as though perhaps that will be that, and maybe it’s for the best as well, but once Steve presses a kiss to the top of Danny’s head, brushing his hair back from his face with his finger tips, Danny hmmms against Steve’s side and whispers.

“That’s how we do it, that’s how we make up for it, we just keep doing this till it hurts less.”

“That... could take a while,” Steve replies quietly. 

“I know.” Danny shrugs, shoulders moving only slightly, but the feeling is conveyed. “But it’s what we've got, so....”

“Yeah,” Steve murmurs sleepily. And he’s not been sleeping since Doris died, so it surprises him when he starts to drift so peacefully off, and he thinks, just as he shudders with an over-tired muscle spasm, that maybe it’s already working. 

He wakes once. And finds Danny’s drifted away from him, so he scoots closer, and falls instantly back asleep.

But when he wakes in the morning, Danny’s already in the shower, and he smells coffee brewing and he hates himself for sleeping through that, for missing the moment of waking up for the first time with Danny in his bed—well, only it’s not the first time, is it. There was that whole week in DC, but this is different for very obvious reasons, and it makes him panic a bit. 

But then the water’s turning off, and Danny’s walking out to him, still damp, and his walk... ohhh it’s _that_ one, that casual easy strut, the one that’s always made Steve think Danny’d be amazing in bed, and the next realization derails all other thoughts because it’s vividly clear what Danny was doing in the shower. 

He’s got a bottle of lube in his hand, and Steve’s not altogether sure it’s his, it’s been so long since he even thought about using it, but Danny pulls the blankets off Steve and uhh by the time the cool air hits him, Steve’s not exactly unprepared for the slick pour of the good stuff on him, and fuck Danny’s already completely ready and he just freaking seats himself right all the way down without even any kind of warning to Steve who is seriously impressed with himself that he doesn’t just fucking come on the spot. 

“Fuck, Danny,” is frankly all he can manage, thanks. And maybe Danny takes that literally because he begins to move almost immediately, and Steve knows he should still him but dammit he doesn’t want to. It still feels punishing, it still feels angry, it still feels like what Steve deserves... only god does it feel amazing. He’d gladly take ten years of punishment like this. 

They don’t last long, but then that’s not the point, now is it. And Steve isn’t sure if he’s surprised their orgasms are more intense than last night but evidently taking the edge off isn’t a thing yet with them, maybe it never will be, that would be fitting in so many ways wouldn’t it, and shit he nearly _does_ pass out this time. 

Danny gets back in the shower, ordering Steve to go get their coffee and bring it back up, and Steve gets up to use the toilet first, and clean off and put some clothes on, you know, just in case his _other_ housemate did come home, and he can’t resist, peeking in the shower, because Danny’s used his shower many times, but Steve’s never been allowed to watch (though of course he’s thought about it), and it gets water on the floor, him pulling the curtain back like that but he doesn’t mind till Danny scolds him and implies that if his coffee isn’t on the bedside table by the time he’s back in bed there will be a penalty. And the thing is, Steve really doesn’t think he’d mind paying it, but he really does want to make Danny happy, so he lets the curtain close, and goes to get dressed. 

That thought, about wanting to make Danny happy, simultaneously warms his heart and hurts it. By the time he’s made it downstairs, he’s become filled with a blind panic—that he has no idea what he’s doing and this is why he’s always waited too late to make his move, because he fucks every relationship up, and if he fucks this one up he thinks probably he’d rather just die. 

He manages to get the mugs out, but he stands at the counter staring at the coffee like he just knows he’ll drop the pot if he even tries to lift it. And it doesn’t feel like much time passes, him standing there barely breathing but it must be a longer time than he thinks because suddenly Danny’s there and he’s filling Steve’s mug not with coffee but with whiskey, and he’s forcing it on him and thank god it works. 

Steve sputters half the whiskey all over the counter, but Danny doesn’t react, just wipes it up with a kitchen towel, and Danny tries again, and Steve gulps more down this time and now he can actually breathe which is a serious improvement on the situation. 

Danny leaves Steve like that, heaving breaths but actually breathing, and slowly coming out of the panic. He pours coffee for them both, but adds a splash of whiskey to it, and some milk, and he takes them both outside, then comes back for Steve.

“Come on, babe,” Danny says, far more kindly than Steve thinks he deserves, and he wraps his arm around him, tugging gently till Steve lets go the edge of the counter, and Steve follows. Blindly, it feels like, but that’s kind of appropriate really, because he absolutely _is_ working blind at this point. 

And he doesn’t like the feeling. In fact he hates it. But in a way it’s good he thinks, because there’s gonna be a lot about this he isn’t going to like. But oh god it’s going to be so worth it. He knows that, and even if he didn’t, the way Danny looks at him, once they’re sitting with their coffee, in their chairs on the beach, it tells him so much. It reminds him of how Danny’d looked at him in DC. And probably Danny didn’t think Steve had noticed, he was so out of sorts. But he did. Oh god he did, and then there’d been too much shock and hurt in his system—he’d been gone for so long, away from Danny for so long... But he’d noticed. 

And now, they’ve peeled through enough of the shock, it can go more directly to Steve’s core. And it does. And it starts this fizzing sensation in his bloodstream. Slightly giddy, like Danny’d been before, slightly uneasy, unsettling, but like he wants more. He thinks it might drive him over some unseen edge into something he has no sense of. But he thinks maybe that’s just what he needs and anyway he’s not sure he even cares because he just _wants_. So. Much. 

“Danny....” He wants to ask Danny to move closer. He’s barely a foot away but it’s too much and Steve can’t seem to move. But he can’t get his words to work, so he just sits there, gaping at this gorgeous, kind, angry man beside him. 

And Danny smiles. And it’s exasperated. And it’s fond. As if those were two halves of the same thing. And yeah, it’s all a bit of a mess. But this never would have been easy, and it’s only gotten harder and messier with all the crap of the past ten years, and Steve would almost say “especially lately” but that would be total bullshit. 

They’ve had more than their share of shit over the years, and they’ve dished out plenty to each other on top of it. But they’ve been there too. Through Matty, through Charlie, through Wo Fat, and Joe, and fourteen other things. And they haven’t always gone to each other. Danny’s gone to Rachel, and Steve’s gone to Catherine and maybe things would have been different if they’d gone to each other instead, but maybe they wouldn’t have been _them_ if they had. 

And besides. They’re here now. And that’s gotta count for something right? 

Danny smiles like he knows it. 

“Drink your coffee, babe,” Danny says, gently. And he sits back in his chair, and he wrangles his bare feet awkwardly through the arms of the chairs and into Steve’s lap, wiggles them against Steve’s belly till he puts his hand on them, and it grounds him. Stills him. And it’s not enough, but it’s a start, and that’s so much more than he ever thought he’d manage with Danny. 

He looks out over the water. And he thinks about all the people he’s loved who will never know he finally got here. His dad. Deb. Joe. His mom. And his eyes water but the tears don’t form, they just kind of sting. Kind of like the hurt of those losses always will. But then he thinks of the people who _will_ know. Grace. Charlie. Mary. Joanie. And that does make the tears come. But he’s smiling, and he sees Danny watching him, and those expressive eyebrows go up, asking. 

“Mary’ll be relieved,” he whispers. “She always liked you best.”

And Danny chuckles and it’s warm but it’s sad. “Yeah,” he sighs. “Grace will too.” Then he huffs out a shaky breath. “She’ll hate us for waiting till she was away at college though. God she’ll never let us live that down.”

“We’ll go visit her,” Steve says, squeezing Danny’s feet. “Mary too.”

Danny nods. Like he can’t say it with words. Steve sees his eyes glisten with saltwater that doesn’t quite fall but kind of seeps out till he wipes it away with the back of his hand. 

And they sit there, in the place where it all started, and they drink their coffee, letting tears blend with salt air, and then they go inside and they make breakfast and they go back upstairs and take more of their hurts out on each other’s bodies, and they sleep, and they don’t, and they shower together, and it feels significant, almost more than the sex, washing each other as though it’s something they know they should have been doing, maybe not all along but for a long time. And they talk about how they’ll tell the kids, and how to tell Grace, and when to tell Mary, and where to go when, and they make dinner together in the kitchen. And Danny doesn’t boss Steve around, but he does hold on to him from behind as he opens the wine, and he wraps Steve around him like a blanket as he makes the pasta and sauce, and drinks from Steve’s glass rather than his own, which feels more meaningful than Steve would have thought, and he loves it. 

“Stay,” he whispers, as they sit out under the stars after. 

Danny’s got his bare feet in Steve’s lap again, like it’s just what he does now, and Steve really hopes it is. He looks over at him. And he smiles. 

“What about Junior?” Danny asks.

“I’ll give him a raise,” Steve says. “He deserves it. So does Tani. I’ll give them both raises and maybe they’ll stop being idiots.” 

Danny chokes on a laugh, because really, it is silly, that Steve’s so fed up with them not seeing it, not admitting it, when it took him and Danny this long.... But Steve knows Danny’s thought it, too, even tried to tell Tani. Steve knows this because she’d then turned it around on Steve, trying to get him to tell Danny how _he_ felt. 

Maybe they’re just all idiots wasting too much time.

“Maybe,” Danny says, suddenly thoughtful. “Maybe seeing us....”

“...Will help?” Steve offers. “Yeah, maybe it will.”

And maybe it’s one way to salvage some joy from this mess they’ve created. Steve can feel the idea making him bold, this flash of anticipation that tingles across his skin as he foresees the impact his pent up regret might have on him. Pushing him—not to make up for lost time, that feels unreachable at this point—but to fully embrace the decision now he’s taken that first, all-important step. Pushing him so hard he almost would worry about losing control. 

But he pulls himself back from that fresh edge of panic with the very simple thought: 

_Do it. Lose control. To Danny. He’ll catch you, he’s proved that_.

And yeah. He should’ve seen _that_ years ago, too. Not ten, maybe, but years ago. So, alright, he’s an old blind fool, but really aren’t we all. Too beaten down by what life hands us to keep getting back up and turn the other way and take what we really need. He’s taking it now. And he’s glad it’s not too late. If he can use the regret as fuel to keep pushing forward maybe he can burn off some of the fear, some of the panic. Just for long enough to fill himself with the joy, the comfort, the bliss, of finally having Danny at his side in this new way. Feet in his lap, mouth on his, fingers kneading his flesh, heart thudding against his. Breath filling his lungs. That lightning spark of electricity shocking him out of dismal complacency and into something that both hurts and helps more. 

This won’t be easy, he knows it won’t. But it absolutely will be worth it. 

**Author's Note:**

> Content note: There’s a perceptible flavor of anger and pain and hurt and frustration to the sex scenes in this one. It fits the story, and it’s not overly explicit, but please be aware of your preferences and any issues, and read accordingly.


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